Hook, Line, and Sinker
by sugarapplesweet
Summary: Revision. When Denny found Kuu after a storm, he thought he had found a friend. Unfortunately for Denny, this new "friend" just might turn out to be more trouble than he's worth.
1. Introduction

**Author's Note:** Does anyone even remember this story? Well, if so, then you may or may not be disappointed to know that a few- more than a few, really- things have been changed. I just thought I could do better, and it was that same thought that kept me from continuing from I already had.

However, if anyone would like a copy of the original, PM your e-mail to me, and I will more than gladly send you the files. Please note, though, that these files will come in an .rtf format as that is the format I use since I only have Text on my Macbook.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harvest Moon nor any of its characters. I also do not have any rights to Bob Marley, Peter Tosh, Men at Work, or Paul Simon nor their lyrics that will be used in this story.

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**Introduction**

**Three Little Birds**

_Don't worry... about a thing. 'Cause every lil' thing... is gonna be alright..._

Her voice was soft, like a mother bird that coos to her chicks just before the sun comes up, and I could just see her at the stove with her back turned as she sang along with the music. I never knew for sure, but it seemed to me that it was the same song that played each and every morning when I finally stumbled out of my bed for breakfast.

And so there I was, listening to the radio as I always had. I had only just sat down at my fold down table, but while my coffee was still hot and the music still played, I could only sigh and close my eyes.

Her hair was once a light and tawny brown, but the many years of being in the Caribbean sun had bleached it almost white. It was also very curly, so much so that it would curl itself into tight mats which more than often than not had to be cut, and she could only hope to contain the mass under a bandanna.

The mere thought was enough to urge my hand to run over the faded, purple fabric that was secured around my own head. How old was I when I first wore it? I couldn't even remember... not really anyway. It was only a faint memory, but I was sure it was still a pleasant one if I was only willing to look back on it one day.

She would only turn after hearing me pull the chair back, the legs squealing as I dragged them across the wood floor, but even though most women, especially if they happened to be mothers, would scold me for doing so, she only smiled.

_"Good morning, Buckwheat."_

I never asked her why she called me by that name, but I just had to chuckled and shake my head to remember it. After all, it was just one of those things that only mothers can say without there being too many questions as to why. If I had time, I might have come to hate being called such a thing, but for better or for worse, she was gone before I could resent her for it.

Even if she hadn't called me by that name, though, what she chose to wear would have been more than enough to embarrass any teenage boy. With her husband being color blind and her son being only seven, she had no real reason not to wear purple with yellow, green with orange, or any other hideous combination. Of course, that was if she chose to wear clothing at all since she often felt that it was much too hot for such things.

_"How's my little buddy today?"_ she would ask, her almost golden eyes sparkling while she spoke. _"Are you hungry for some fish cakes? Mama made 'em special just for you."_

They weren't really fish cakes, only pancakes she made into fish shapes with a cookie cutter, and so I would nod as I gave her a toothy grin. She would laugh then, a blinding line of teeth that split her tanned features almost in half. Then, just like magic, there would be a full plate set down in front of me with my nose being level with the table.

To be honest, she was a horrible cook, but at that age, I hardly even noticed unless the outside was burnt. The insides were always on the half-done side, being more than a little chewy in the middle, but I ate it all the same and never once complained. It was just too bad that I could still remember the taste after all these years.

Shaking my head for a second time, I downed the rest of my coffee which had gone cold while I sat there, but it was only after the memory had gone that I was able to stand. Then all it took was a heavy sigh before I walked up the stairs to the top deck and forgetting all about the radio and melody that continued to play on.

_Don't worry... about a thing. 'Cause every little thing... is gonna be alright..._


	2. Chapter One

**Chapter One**

**Hammer**

"Hey, Denny, how's life treating you?"

"Oi, Denny! Still playin' wit that rusted out warsh bin of yers?"

"Keeping it together, huh?"

I only gave them a half-hearted wave as I passed the shanty bar, having only heard half of what had been said. I never really listened to much of the chatter that went on around me even when I probably should have. After all, it wasn't like all it was garbage. Some of it was actually important.

Like the harbor master telling me that it was time to move onto the next port.

"Now, Denny, I'm not saying we don't like having you around here, but times are getting hard for all of us. And I just don't can't see how you're doing yourself any favors by staying here with all these commercial fishing rigs cluttering up the bay and all." He tried to smile, but to me, it looked more like he had eaten something awful. "I mean, I don't have anything against small time fishermen, but... you're in this on your own with-"

"Don't worry about it, Rex. I'm leaving today, so you can give the dock to whoever you've got asking for it." The man only blinked for a moment, but it wasn't long before his face split into a wide grin. "Just give me until three."

"Sure thing, Denny." He offered his hand to me, but I kept my own in jean pockets. When I did, he looked away, and I could tell by the way his face warmed that he was embarrassed. "Well then, guess I'll see you off at three today."

"Yeah." It was at that point that he finally understood I wasn't interested in hearing whatever it was he was going to say. All the politeness in the world couldn't hide the fact he wanted me out of there as fast as he could. I was fine with that, though, but only because I was already done with the place myself. "I'll have my payment ready when you come by."

It was during those times that I wondered if my parents ever dealt with that kind of thing. Having people look down on them for our rickety little boat and well worn equipment... Of course, when I was younger, we also tended to keep to the local harbors where a person had to wade out to the rusted out rod that the boat was tied to. No paperwork, no fees, no problems.

"Great. Now I'm starting to sound like an old man," I thought aloud with a sigh. "Next thing you know, I'll start forgetting what I'm supposed to be doing."

"Might want to worry about all that talking to yourself first," a voice called out to me with a splintering laugh. "Nothing else ages a man quite like having only himself for company, you know."

"Morning, Pascal." The older man tipped back his captain's hat and gave me a smile and a nod, and then, without another word to me or anyone else, he went back to leaning on his boat railing and smoking his pipe. He looked so calm standing there with his tired eyes and seaman's jacket, and not for the first time, I found myself wishing that I could be so at peace with myself. "'Fraid I won't be sticking around much longer."

"That so? Where you heading to?"

"Don't know yet," I replied with a shrug. "I was thinking of going south, but that's all I really know." He said nothing as he listened, but I knew he was paying attention unlike most of the guys on the decks. Myself included. "Looks like you're getting ready to head out yourself."

"Yeah, Rex came by a little while ago... Guessing you had a talk with him?" I shrugged. "Figured. Probably hoping to open this place up for the snowbirds. 'Course the only folks that come around here are old hats like me." He paused to take another puff from his pipe and shook his head. "I'll probably just go back home... Hear it's been getting real nice up there since this guy moved in and took over that farm."

"Sounds like a nice place."

"Ah, sorry 'bout that," he chuckled. "Got carried away there." We stood in silence for a time, and after a while, we both sighed and looked off in different directions. "I guess I should let you go," he continued. "Gonna take some time to get that boat ready."

"Doesn't it always?" There was no reason to wish each other good luck or any of that. We just gave each other one last nod and went our separate ways, like men often did, and that was that. It was nice, really. A lot better than most of the good-byes I had gone through in my life.

I never had the chance to say it to my parents, but now that I was older, I realized that it was better off that way. It was hard enough leaving my uncles... and they were still alive. Which, if I was being honest, was the cruelest irony of them all seeing as we weren't actually related. Not that I knew of anyway.

_Why am I even thinking about it?_ It wasn't like I had seen them in the past five years or so, and even when I had lived with them, we were never close. It was like I was left at the baby-sitters, told to do whatever I wanted, and never picked up. Half the time, I was lucky if either one of them was around at all. Maybe that was why it was always so easy for me to live alone on the old Salacia.

It had been eleven years since my parents had gone, but even without having any way of knowing what would happen, they had willed the boat to me as soon as I was born. Sure, maybe the railing had broken off in places, and maybe I had to fix a part or two every couple of weeks. Maybe it was better off as scrap. It was still my boat, though, and if nothing else, she was still good enough to put food on my table and a dozen or so fish for the market. I was proud to have her as mine.

As for where I was to go, it was a place no one had ever heard of. A small town known as Flower Bud where two friends of the family would be the ones to be my uncles. No doubt the pair were better friends to my mother. They talked of her often when they thought I had gone to bed. I was too young at the time to understand most of what was being said about her, but I still remembered how they used to say how much we looked alike. I don't even think they ever mentioned my old man, but I also had a hard time remembering him myself.

I clapped my hands over my ears to clear my head. It hurt, of course, but I was okay with that. It was better than remembering things that were better off forgotten especially when there was so much work left for me to do.

Little did I know that the work was just beginning...


End file.
